


Gallavich?

by Chips2



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Canon Gay Relationship, Chicago, Episode: s10e12 Gallavich!, Fluff and Smut, Honeymoon, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mania, Post-Wedding, Shameless Smut, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, gay jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chips2/pseuds/Chips2
Summary: Set after the wedding ceremony and reception (Gallavich!- 10x12). Ian and Mickey go on honeymoon and spend some quality time together and get cute and smutty with each other.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 18
Kudos: 196





	Gallavich?

**Author's Note:**

> My second Ian/ Mickey fanfic. I really enjoyed doing a Mickey POV.

I tell Gallagher to take the next left. 

He raises his eyebrows as he pulls our borrowed car up to the front of a fancy hotel. It’s one of my surprises. I booked it in secret. It’s from me to him for our honeymoon, after he assumed it would be okay for us to sleep at his place the night of our wedding. First of all, no it fucking wouldn't be okay for us to sleep in his shithole of a bedroom on our wedding day. Plus, I'm not risking his fucking siblings walking in on us while we bang for the first time since getting hitched. Fuck that.

That’s why we are here; still southside but it don’t feel southside. Not since the suits and smoothie-drinking lesbians rejuvenated it or whatever. This part has yoga studios, fancy fucking restaurants, coffee shops and this overpriced boutique hotel. I got shown the honeymoon suite when I came here a few days ago to pay upfront in cash for our stay. It’s a real fucking sweet room. Candles and mood lighting. Complimentary champagne. Big bed with silk sheets and room enough for Ian to put it in me on a different spot of it. Fuck!… can’t wait… getting a chub just thinking about it!

He looks at the building. He’s surprised and happy. That’s the aim. I want this to be the happiest fucking day of his life. “We’re staying here?”

“Yeah. Motherfucker. We’re staying here.” I give him a smile. “Last time I plan to get married. You?” 

“I’m thinking I’ll have two more tries after this.” 

“Fucker.”

He smiles as he takes my hand. 

I don’t think I have ever felt this happy. I mean, I just got married to the man next to me; this weird looking red head with a monster cock, the inner drive of a beast and the biggest heart. People like him don’t happen to people like me, so I feel like the luckiest son of a bitch. He’s home to me. My home and my life. I mean that. He brings good into my life. You’ll never hear me say it, but he knows that I think that no one compares to him; He’s cancelled everything that makes being gay a bad thing for me.

“Hey. Let’s get in there already.” I tell him then look around us. “Where’s the fucking valet?”

He scoffs. “Never thought I’d hear those words coming from your mouth.”

“Fuck you. I valet.” I lie.

He rolls his eyes. They make a sucker out of me, his eyes, and I’m not even mad about it. Especially when he looks at me with them the way he is now. He leans in suddenly and kisses me. Does it like it’s no big deal. Like we haven’t got the fucking car’s top down so that anybody with eyes can see us. Kissing in public isn’t a thing we do, like, on the regular. Once or twice maybe, like at that gay club he worked at and our wedding just now. But those times were those times. I knew we wouldn’t get beaten to shit. 

I pull away from him quickly and look around us nervously. Looking for dad or whoever he’s probably sent to kill us. 

Gallagher's disappointment is written all over his face. “No one fucking cares, Mickey.”

He’s naive. In his bubble of accepting family and gays- gay army, gay fire men, gay go-go dancers- that’s true. In my world, ninety-nine fucking percent of the fuckers I hang with think that being a ‘mo is fucking disgusting shit. 

Ian sighs. This is not the way I wanted our married life to start, with him fucked off with me.

I look around us at people walking on the sidewalk and in and out of the hotel lobby. No one is staring. No one is charging at us. No one seems to give a fuck that two dudes just kissed in front of them. 

I’m thinking, now that I am officially part of his world, maybe mine can matter less. Maybe I can believe that there is more good than bad and not everyone wants to stab us in the throat because we like cock. 

Fuck it. 

I love Ian.

More than anything.

That is all that fucking matters.

I drag my fingers through the back of my husband’s head. My husband. I smile because I just thought of him as my husband and it feels right and real. I feel the texture of his ginger hair at the back. He’s kind of right. Here, no one fucking cares. But more than that, I can’t care about anyone else. Not anymore. Not when I have made a promise to him to love and cherish him through thick and thin.

I stare into his sloping blue eyes, rub the knot at the back of his neck there. He’s tense and it’s because of me. Because he thinks that I’m still not proud of him or us or some shit. He’s wrong.

I am so fucking proud.

I kiss him gently. It feels right so as soon as I pull back, I lean in to kiss him again. 

He smiles and raises an eyebrow at me. “You gone soft on me, Mickey?”

“Nah.” I get out of the car. “You going to stay there all day or what, fire crotch? Fucking valet’s fucking finally decided to take a break from putting his hand up his ass.”

Some young dude in a black suit and a red bow tie uniform jogs towards our car with a stupid fucking smile on his face.

“Sorry! My name’s Pete.” He says breathlessly. “Sorry. I was just parking another car. Good evening and welcome! We were expecting you, Mr Milkovich.”

I scowl at him as I round the car, open the door for Ian and wait for him to slowly hop out. 

Ian hands him the keys. The valet’s smile goes from friendly to surprised to fucking crazy when his eyes connect with Gallagher’s. Like someone has just told him he’s won the fucking lottery.

“Oh wow! Hey!” His eyes are on my husband, widening and shit. Like he likes what he sees. I’m not here for that shit. I know a limp wristed thirsty bitch when I see one. 

Ian smiles at him like the fucking flirt that he is. 

“So, _you_ got married today?” This wannabe-husband-stealer asshole says to my husband only. Like I’m not even fucking here. 

“Yeah.” 

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you.” Ian turns to me with the biggest smile on his face and, honestly, that melts my heart. 

“I’ll take care of your car and bring your bags up to your room.” Still only talking to Ian. Still smiling too much and lingering too fucking long at Gallagher with his eyes. This fucking asshole. “Let me know if I can be of any further help during your stay.”

“We’re good.” I make sure that my face tells him to fuck off. I pop open the boot and take out a backpack with our things. Does he think I was born yesterday? I trust Ian but this stranger with a boner for my redhead, not so much. I’m not going to sit back while he slobbers all over my guy.

I swing the bag onto my back and take Ian’s hand. Make sure that the valet understands that I’m not playing.

Then Pete-the-fucking-asshole-valet touches my husband’s arm. 

I get ready to punch him in the throat. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” He asks Ian.

“Step back, ass wipe.” I mutter through gritted teeth.

“Mickey.” Ian warns but I’ve got my eyes locked on valet boy.

“Can I get a picture with you?”

What? Huh? 

Oh. Is that what his fucking behaviour is about? The fucking ‘Gay Jesus’ bullshit?

“You’re my fucking hero. Honestly!” The valet smiles. “Shit. Sorry for cussing. My friends won’t believe that I met Gay Jesus on his- your- wedding day!” He turns to me. “You’re a lucky guy, Mr Milkovich. Your husband has made such a difference to me and my friends.”

“Yeah. Well...”

“By the way, your reservation says Mr and... Mrs Milkovich?”

About that… Ian looks at me curiously. "Mrs Milkovich?"

I shrug sheepishly. After the thing with the florist, I didn't want to risk not getting our honeymoon room just because of some asshole bigot homophobe.

When I was making my booking I told the receptionist that I was getting married and gave her my name. She assumed the rest; that I was with a chick and that we were going to be the newly married Milkoviches. 

I didn’t correct her.

I shake my head. “It was a mistake. A misunderstanding…”

Ian shrugs and squeezes my hand. “Mr Milkovich. I could get used to that. Ian Milkovich.”

I relax. “Yeah?” I elbow him. “You a tough guy Milkovich now?”

“Yeah. You know, but with better hygiene and a lower kill count.”

“Fuck you.”

He smiles. “Plan to.”

+

  
He lifts me into his arms, like some fucking blushing bride, to cross our hotel room’s threshold. No permission. No fucking warning. As if I’m his fucking bitch. He better know I’m no one’s bitch but for one night only...

“Really? On your fucking busted leg, Gallagher?” I whisper.

He’s got our weight on his broken ankle as if that’ll impress me. As if the smile I have on my face right now is because of this fucking cliché move of his. 

“What are you going to do about it?” He grunts as he lifts me higher in his hold.

I give up real quick on getting him to stop. I have seen what going on in his eyes. He's about to put it on me so I settle into him, wrap my arms around him, kiss his neck and bury my face into it and hope that we make it to the bed in one piece so that we can get our fuck on.

+

He throws me onto the covers then climbs onto the bed to join me. He grins as he dives on top of me, kisses me. There isn’t time to get all our shit off. Just the necessary. Bow ties. Off. Shirts. Open. I kiss him and pull my pants down. He goes for my underwear; tugging, groaning. Impatient. He pushes them down. He unbuckles and frees his cock while we kiss. Our two bodies feel like one thing. Like we have one skin. Pale skin getting pink with warmth. Smelling of the soap, body spray and the pricey looking French spray thingy he assaulted me with this morning. Cologne or whatever. For the special occasion, he said.

I dig my hands into his back. Claw at him. I rub my dick against him. Wrap my legs around him. Feel him push against me. The rhythmic gyration of his body. His thick cock nudges my thigh. Like it's begging. He's fucking me without fucking me. Reminding me of his smooth grind when we properly bang. I’m a needy bitch when he teases me like this. I get out of control. I forget where I am. I forget volume control. 

“Fuck.” 

We thought and said the same thing. I reach for his cock as he gets mine in his hand. He is rock hard. I pump it, spit onto my hands to get some slide going, stroke his cock again. I jerk him off while he jerks me off. Smoothly. We match each other’s movements. Speed and pressure. I pant against his lips. Fuck, he’s hot. He shivers and his eyes close. I look down and watch the precum bubble up from his dick. He’s getting close. His breath becomes shallow, gagged. Not yet, Gallagher. I stop the pressure. Ninja style I push him over, onto his back. I get on top of him and nearly trip over my pants. I kick them off, underwear too. It’s easier for me to get naked than it is for him with his boot.   
I straddle him and sit up on him. His hands are on me; tracing me as if it’s his first time mapping my body. Shoulders. Arms. Stomach. Cock. He trails a finger down it- rock fucking hard- then grips my butt. 

That's his favourite part of me. I know it because he's told me, many times before. Normally when we are like this. Naked and getting it on. I remember the first time. I realise now that he was going high. Manic. But still. He woke me up, middle of the night, and kissed me. He smiled like the fucking sun was coming out of him then flipped me over like a pancake so I was ass up, still half asleep. And he rested his head on my ass like it was a fucking pillow and whispered, 'This is the best place on Earth, Mickey. I'm never fucking leaving.'

And I thought he was a moron and the most goddamn sexiest boy I ever knew.

'Fuck off.' I replied.

'I'm serious.' 

“Come here.” Gallagher whispers and pulls me out of my memory. 

Don’t need to ask me twice. We make out like we’re kids. Like we’re making up for our first couple of years seeing each other, when I refused to kiss him because, in my mind, that was the thing that would lock me down as a fag. Ian’s a great kisser. He consumes me. He kisses like there is a promise of sex. Like I am his one and only. I have never felt so possessed and yet free as I do when we kiss. 

“Hey.” My voice has gone all husky. I lick my tongue across his lips. “Gonna take care of that cock. Okay?” 

I get down; trailing a path of small kisses as I move down his body. I lick his cock. His fingers scratch lightly down my back towards the small of it. I take him down my throat. I blow him like I’m a fucking champion at it. I bob my head. He likes it slow at first, then faster as the heat goes up. He reaches far enough down my back that he gets to my butt cheeks again. He grabs them. Kneads them like fucking pizza dough. He’s obsessed. I push my ass up against his touch while taking his cock as far down my throat as I can.  
I feel his cock jerk. He gasps. I swallow around it and feel a swell of moisture from him.

“Stop!” He pushes me off him, suddenly. 

He grips the base of his dick. His eyes are closed, and his free hand is clenched into a fist by his side. He looks so fucking sexy getting himself off that climax cliff. My skinny, toned lover. My ginger hunk. Cock jerking. Shirt open. His stomach muscles tense. His legs are slightly bent. His pants and underwear are hanging onto him at the level of his knee. They can’t get past that without taking his boot off. 

“Give me a minute.” His breath is harsh and hard. 

I feel fucking smug as I settle myself between his splayed legs. I slowly, lightly, run the back of my hands up his thighs. The soft red hairs there are standing up. He’s got goosebumps everywhere. 

His cock is so fucking tempting. 

“Don’t touch it.” He warns.

I pause my fingers next to their goal. He bites his lower lip.

I keep my hands occupied by trying to get his open shirt off him. I want to see all of him, touch all of him. Fucker slaps me away though and takes it off himself. I lean in and kiss him. 

It doesn’t matter if he comes now... or if I do. That’s the point of this honeymoon suite and this huge fucking bed. We can go again. And again. And again…   
He kisses me back. Deep. Our tongues dance and our lips move against each other, slow and deliberately. He pulls me even closer to him and fucking devours my mouth. He takes my fucking breath away and makes me feel so fucking horny that I’m done fucking around. He grabs my waist and bores his eyes into mine. We are on the same wavelength. 

I’m about to get dug the fuck out. 

There was once a time I was physically stronger than him. Not anymore. He pushes me back and I land a distance from him on the bed. On my back. He crawls to me and flips me onto my stomach. I push my hips up. Ass up. Not enough. He pulls me up even more arches my back. Uses my body just the way I like. He rubs my ass. Feels the jiggles. One cheek then the other. The sting of his slap is sharp, but it mellows when he rubs my skin. He kisses the same spot. Licks over it. Fucking worships it. He gets on my hole without warning. Tongue pressed right on it.

“Fuck! Don’t eat me out, asshole.” I whisper. “I haven’t showered yet.”

“You’re fine.”

I stay in position but turn my head to look at him. “You’re fucking gross do you know that? You think I’m gonna let you kiss me after with that mouth?”  
He raises an eyebrow and parts my ass cheeks. He goes in like he’s got a point to prove. As if he’s at a fucking buffet. He spits on my hole and licks it until it’s wet and slippery and I feel myself pushing up against him. I can’t help it. I moan like a fucking bitch. I can’t be rational now. Gallagher doesn’t play fair in the sack. He pierces me with his tongue. Rims me out.

“Fuck!”

He chuckles. “You like that.”

“God damn, Gallagher!”

He breathes on my ass hole. “Milkovich.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Ian Milkovich now.”

I smile. “That make me Mikhailo Gallag-?” But I don’t finish the question because he’s pushed a spit slicked finger into me. 

I moan again. Instinct pushes my hips up until I completely engulf it. 

“Yes.” He mutters. 

I bring my arm to my mouth and bite down on it. I jerk off with my other hand. This feels so fucking good. That alternating pressure. Around the opening, over it then plunging deep. Again and again. He pushes another one in and a third. Slow. I feel them against that sensitive part of me. That prostate tap. Fuck. It’s what makes me a hungry fucking bottom. That feeling of being stuffed full and played with right on that spot. I feel open. Ready. 

“Just fuck me, asshole.”

I push up and bite my lip. 

“Let me get lube.” 

He caresses me then reaches into the pocket of his tux. 

“This okay?” He shows me the sachet in his hand.

He bursts out laughing when he sees my reaction of pure horror.

“Get that the fuck away from me, Ian!” I flip over and kick at his hand with my foot.

“I thought, you know, trip down memory lane!” He is giggling so hard that he can barely get his words out. “I miss your ass and my dick smelling like coleslaw!”

He doubles over in a fit of laughter as he tears the corner of the sachet open with his teeth.

“Fuck you and fuck that mayonnaise!” I flip him the finger. “Don’t touch me with it, Ian. I’m serious.” I feel like gagging when I get a whiff of it. “Where did you get it?”

“The Polish Doll. There was a whole bowl of them by the bar!”

I thump him in the arm that is holding the sachet and he drops it. 

“Fucking aw, Mickey!” He shakes his dead arm.

“Serves you right!” 

I jump off the bed and grab the lube bottle from our overnight bag. Then I go to the en-suite bathroom. I return to our room with a bath towel, jump back into our bed and boomerang the mayonnaise sachet across the floor. 

“Think you’re Mr Clever Funny.” I mutter.

“It got us through some dark times.” Ian grins.

“Yeah well.” I lay the bath towel down on the bed, kiss his shoulder, and lie back on it. I like it doggy but I’m in the mood for something more connected. I pop the top of the lube bottle, squeeze some into my hand and smooth it over the length of his dick. Damn. Seeing it thick, glistening and ready to fuck never gets old.  
Gallagher’s laughter dies on his lips and his mouth gets slack. He’s done talking. He looks down at me and settles his forehead against mine. 

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. No more clowning.” I whisper.

I use whatever is left of the lube on my fingers to slick my hole. I run my hands up his arms, over his shoulders, down his chest. Lusting the fuck after him.   
He pushes my legs up over his shoulders. Because of our different heights this position gets my legs right back, bent all the fucking way. Knees by my ears. Feet over my head. In this position, his dick goes balls deep in me when we really get going. It’s the deepest that he feels in me. He rubs his cock against me. Just the head. Ian Milkovich (born Gallagher): world’s biggest fucking tease. He switches it up with his fingers and I moan at him impatiently. He rubs my hole with fingers then his dick then back again. He eventually pushes it in slowly. Takes a pause and looks at me. Checks that I’m okay as if I am some fucking virgin. 

“Yeah.” I whisper.

We kiss messily as he plunges in further. Gently. There’s teeth, tongues, spit and hot air while I feel myself being stretched and opened by his throbbing hot cock. We’re like fucking feral animals and I want more. I nibble his lower lip and he growls. 

He pushes in. A little too much too fast. I wince and place my hand against his chest. Ian stops. Slowly pulls out. Kisses my temple, my hairline, my nose. My mouth.

“Sorry.” Slips from his lips. “Fucking desperate here.”

He applies more lube to me. To his dick.

I breath out and relax. He breathes out and pushes in again… slowly. Pulls out and puts even more lube on. He breathes in and presses back into me. Goddamn he feels fucking amazing. We kiss as he sinks deeper and I open more. 

Gallagher fills me up, balls deep, and begins to push into me, gradually building the pace and pressure. His body moves all languid like a fluid or some shit. I clutch onto him. His back. His butt. I use my hands to dig into his toned firmness. To push him deeper into me. He fucks me harder and faster. I feel him overheating against me. Sweaty. I must be too. His face flushes. He begins to make that deep spine-tingling huff that he does with every thrust when he’s really in the moment. He’s in blissed-out fuck-machine mode. I feel like I am about to explode. My body feels limp. Tingly. Uncontrollable. 

I’m at my body’s mercy and right now my body is my husband’s bitch.

“Fuck!” He whispers against my ear when he wraps his arms tightly around me and plunges into me like a piston. 

I try to get to my dick but he’s there first; fucking me and jerking me off. 

I won’t last long. No way. No chance. 

Before I finish the thought, I fucking cum as he dumps his load in me.

+

I didn’t realise I fell asleep soon after but it’s not surprising. Sex with Ian is like a sedative for me. I mean that like a compliment. I don’t sleep easily. This calms me right the fuck down. It rests my brain and my body like nothing else can, but he is poking my side and I’m a light sleeper, so I startle awake. 

He rests a reassuring hand on me as I turn to face him. I yawn. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

I can barely move a muscle except to take his hand in mine. I am so tired and feeling that nice type of body ache.

“Yeah.”

He smiles at me and I smile back. 

“First time having sex as husbands.” He whispers, as he pulls in closer to me. He kisses my forehead.

“You woke me up to tell me that?” I yawn. “I was fucking there. Damn!”

His grin gets wider. “Yeah, you liked that?”

“You know I did.”

“That’s not the only reason I woke you up.”

Wait. I open my eyes wider, forcing myself to feel less drowsy because Ian is acting very awake. “You been awake all this time?”

“Yeah.” He unclasps his hand from mine and lightly pets my chest. “Cause, you know, we just got married and, unlike you, I couldn’t just fall sleep like it was any fucking day of the week.”

I smile and yawn again because he is cute as fuck. Another fucking reason why I love him. “Not my fault. You got to stop putting benzos on the tip of your dick. What can I say?”

I rib him gently.

He smiles. “You saying I’m like a ‘Mickey pacifier’ or some shit? Only instead of a pacifier it’s my-” 

He points at his cock.

“You know you are.” I lean in to kiss him then rest my head back on the bed. We settle into silence. Relaxed. Peaceful. Calm.

I remember… “You going to tell me why you woke me up or what?”

“What do you really think about names?”

I check his face to see if he is asking seriously or not. He’s serious.

“Dunno.”

“I like Ian Milkovich.”

“You’re better than a Milkovich.” I tell him honestly.

“I married a Milkovich. You don’t want me to be one?”

I shrug. “I kind of like you being a Gallagher.”

He sighs. “How about you?”

I turn to my side to fully face him. 

“Mikhailo Gallagher.” I say it slowly; try it out for size. It feels strange.

His face scrunches up.

“Yeah.” I grin. “See? It’s fucking weird.”

“Maybe we should just stick to our names.” He doesn’t sound keen on the idea as he says it though.

He pulls me into a hug. I pretend not to like it out of habit. “Get off!”

He laughs. 

“Or we can do that two-name thing.” I suggest.

“Double barrelled.” He frowns. “Our names are too fucking long. Imagine filling out paperwork.”

I yawn again. Fuck I’m tired. I rest my head on his chest and get comfortable enough to get sleepy again. “What time is it?”

He looks over my shoulder. “Just after 3 am.”

“Really? Fuck Ian. I’m going back to sleep. We can figure it out in the morning.”

“How about I fuck you instead?” He whispers and runs a hand down my back seductively.

I burrow into him and shake my head. “Too tired.”

+

I wake up because I feel Ian’s hand slowly tickling up and down my arm. I wonder how long he has been up this time. He couldn’t have been up all fucking night. I am distracted from my thoughts by his hands. Persuasive. I smile because I know he’s angling; sniffing out the chances of more sex. He’s been way hornier these past few days leading up to the wedding, which makes sense, I guess. 

“Morning, Mr. Gallavich.”

I may not be looking at him, but his voice tells me that he is pleased as fuck with his solution to our name issue. I bet this mother fucker has been up all night coming up with that. 

Gallavich.

Has a ring to it. I smile because two can play that game.

“Morning, Mr Millagher.”

Yeah. No. That doesn’t sound as good as Gallavich. I try it out in my head. Like if we decide to go down for breakfast now, I could say, ‘Hi. We’re here for breakfast.’

_‘May I take your names and room number please?’_

_‘Ian and Mickey Gallavich. The honeymoon suite.’_

_‘Thank you. Let me show you to your table. Right this way.’_

Ian and Mickey Gallavich. Is that a bullshit name or the best fucking idea ever?

“You hungry?” I ask Ian.

We could try it out for real.

“Not really.” He turns to me and gives me a small smile. “Wanna go again?”

Food or Fuck.

It’s not even a close call. 

“Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have also written a story called Pre-Wedding Bang, also set in episode GALLAVICH 10x12. I would love to hear your feedback. Thanks for reading this x


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